Promise
by em2706
Summary: Alex finds the future's not everything he'd hoped for. Sequel to Thing. Slash.


Alex had searched through three cupboards before he realised he'd been too distracted to see the contents of any of them. He sighed in frustration, shoving the door of the last cupboard closed a little more forcefully than he intended and wincing as it banged shut. He didn't want Chris to see him lose his cool; the last thing he wanted was to let on that Chris still affected him.

Even if he'd known beforehand how hard the evening would be, he would probably still have come. It was Petey's birthday, and he didn't want to let the situation between Chris and himself screw the night up for Petey. Nonetheless, sitting at Petey's dining table watching Chris smile and laugh was torture, and he was willing the time to pass faster, until it was late enough that he could make his excuses and get the hell out.

Chris' smiles didn't look quite the same to him anymore. Alex assumed it was because the polish had worn off his erstwhile idealised image of Chris, and yet somehow he didn't love Chris any less than he had ten years before. Age hadn't changed Chris much; the only real difference between Chris at 28 and Chris at 38 was that his nose had kept on getting bigger. God help him, Alex thought it was cute.

Alex's bathroom mirror assured him that he looked nothing like he did a decade previously, but Alex was well aware that his mirror lied to him on a regular basis, so he tried not to take too much notice of it. Sometimes his mirror was his friend though. He'd recently gone through a moustache phase, and had shaved it off when he'd looked in his mirror and it had told him he looked like Joey fucking Ryan. There were definitely no more moustaches in Alex's near future.

The Machine Guns had lived longer than either one of them would have predicted - another eight years after the discovery that Chris returned Alex's desire. Over the years, they'd both become so adept at living their characters, nobody ever noticed that by the end of their run, they barely even looked at each other. Not even Petey knew about the gulf that had developed between them.

They'd always known they'd do well as singles again once the Guns were finished, and they were right. Chris' career was going from strength to strength - as it should. Despite the situation between them, Alex would still admit without hesitation that Chris was his favourite wrestler. Alex's career would probably still be going strong too, were it not for the fact that, almost a year to the day after the Guns split up, he'd retired. No fanfare, no farewell match, he'd simply called in some favours to have himself written out with an injury and quietly slipped away. He'd gone home and left everyone to figure out for themselves that he wasn't going back.

Sneakers squeaked on the tiled floor, and Alex prayed they belonged to Petey. However, Alex and God weren't the best of friends.

"Did you get lost?" Chris' voice enquired from behind him, and Alex momentarily closed his eyes, steeling himself for the insincere civil conversation he knew they were about to attempt.

Arranging the closest thing he could manage to a smile on his face, Alex turned around. The sight of Chris' expression of mild concern immediately made Alex's resentment and anger boil to the surface, and he struggled to maintain his appearance of complacency. After everything that had happened - or not happened - Chris had no business pretending he gave a shit. "Nah, just got distracted. Petey's redecorated since I was here last."

"Yeah, he did it a while back. You should come over more often. I know he'd like to see more of you, and you and I would bump into each other from time to time too."

A bitter snort of laughter escaped before Alex could stop it, and Chris raised a questioning eyebrow. Alex hurriedly tried to cover his response. "I don't think Petey's better half likes me much."

Chris shrugged. "She never liked you before, and it didn't used to stop you."

"I'm trying to show more consideration for others in my old age," Alex said, and he was put out when Chris laughed. Like Chris was in any fucking position to throw stones.

"It's in one of the drawers, numbnuts," Chris said, and he reached for the drawer next to Alex's hip. Alex watched Chris' fingers wrap around the handle, and his mind spitefully supplied him with the vivid memory of the first time he'd walked into the hotel room they'd shared and been met with the sight of Chris' hands trailing down someone else's chest. _I'll be waiting for you,_ Chris had said, the lying, backstabbing bastard.

Much later, it had occurred to Alex that Chris was probably under just as much strain as he was, and could have simply needed to feel close to someone for a little while, even if he knew it wasn't real. It didn't necessarily mean he was starting something with anyone else. Alex wouldn't have had an issue with that; he'd hardly been a saint himself, trying to cope with his desperate longing for Chris by drowning himself in rats of both genders. He knew the moment he entered that hotel room that Chris' loneliness wasn't the problem though. The problem was him. He wasn't good enough for Chris, and he never would be. Believing that one day he and Chris could fall into each other's arms and live happily ever after had been nothing but foolishness and wishful thinking, and he should have known better.

Alex hastily moved away, and if Chris was amused by his discomfort, he didn't show it.

"I knew that, I was just curious," Alex mumbled, and he cringed inwardly at his inability to act normally. 37 years old, and simply being in the same room as Chris made him behave like a socially inept schoolboy. No wonder he hadn't been able to maintain Chris' interest.

"I'm pretty sure this is the one... yeah, here it is." Chris produced the corkscrew Alex had been searching for, brandishing it triumphantly.

"Well done," Alex said sarcastically. Maybe now they could get out of this fucking room. Chris stood between him and the doorway though, and rather than walk past Chris, Alex waited for him to head back into the dining room. Much to his annoyance, Chris didn't move.

After several seconds of painful silence, Chris suddenly asked, "Why did you retire?"

Alex looked away. He was hardly going to tell Chris the truth. TV wrestling was never his first love, and walking away from four minute TV matches so that he could sever the last professional ties between himself and Chris hadn't felt like much of a sacrifice. Ending the team had made no difference; Alex figured that maybe when he wasn't wrestling at all anymore, Chris would come to him. Even at the time, Alex knew the idea was a joke, but he went ahead with it anyway. He didn't have much to lose, and at least he wouldn't have to spend half the week looking at Chris anymore. Now, a year later, he wasn't sure whether _not_ looking at Chris was any easier, but on the plus side, he had a successful fledgling wrestling school to show for his time, and a very attractive offer from New Japan had made him begin to reconsider his retirement. "There was nothing else wrestling could give me that I wanted. I was done."

"You shouldn't have gone," Chris said. "You had so many great things ahead of you."

Alex scowled. "I'm better off out of it. All it ever got me was disappointment and chipped bones." _And knives in my back._

"I know the feeling." Chris absently twisted his arm to make his elbow crack. "Nothing seems to have turned out quite the way I hoped."

Alex's head whipped around and he stared at Chris. Chris had some fucking nerve. His life was fucking peachy. His career was going great, he was making good money, and Alex had heard a rumour that there was something going on between him and Austin Aries, of all fucking people. Alex wasn't good enough for him, but apparently his cast-offs were. "Right. Because your life is just fucking awful."

Chris' eyes narrowed and he folded his arms in annoyance. "You know, I get that our friendship hasn't been the same in a long time, but I honestly don't know what I did to deserve all this hate from you."

Alex seethed. How dare Chris act like the injured party? After Chris had let Alex think they had a future together, had let him invest himself in his vision of life with Chris, only to decide Alex wasn't up to scratch? And okay, Alex knew that wasn't really Chris' fault and that Chris didn't owe him anything, but he also knew how broken he was going to feel the day he stopped being angry, and he wasn't ready to face that just yet. On the other hand, he was tired of waking up every day and having to fight to get out of bed, because carrying his fury alongside the weight of twelve years of unfulfilled yearning was crippling him. He wished he _could_ hate Chris; still loving him was making Alex's life miserable.

"Does it really make any difference what I think of you?" Alex spat out. "I'm sure you have a string of boyfriends to comfort you and your poor injured feelings."

"You're kidding, right?" Chris smiled faintly. "Granted, there've been rats and the occasional fuck buddy, but I haven't had a boyfriend since 2004. I'm gonna die an old maid."

Alex couldn't believe Chris was standing there, lying to his face, and all of a sudden, he couldn't stand it anymore. All the things they'd never said, the things they pretended hadn't happened... he needed to hear Chris acknowledge it, and admit that he'd turned his back on Alex. "What's the one thing you regret the most?" _Go on,_ Alex goaded silently, _fucking say it, you treacherous cunt._

Chris didn't respond immediately. He had the gall to look like he was struggling with his answer, and Alex just wanted him to say it so it could finally be over and he could lay his hopeless love for Chris to rest. When Chris eventually spoke, his voice was quiet and calm.

"I used to be glad you ended that kiss when you did, because I don't think I could have. I was grateful you saved me from being another disposable cock for you when I wasn't strong enough to do it, gave us a chance at something bigger down the line. Now sometimes I wonder whether that would have been better than nothing at all."

Of all the replies Chris could have given, _I wish you had used me_ wasn't something Alex was prepared for. Doubting Chris' sincerity, Alex studied Chris' face and found none of the things he expected. There was no disdain or amusement or spite, not even anger at Alex for lashing out; only a hollow resignation and an ache that Alex couldn't believe he'd been too blind to see before.

It occurred to Alex that he was the stupidest man ever to have walked the earth. _When the Machine Guns are dead and buried,_ Chris had said, _if you're still interested, ask me again._

Chris pulled himself up straight, visibly irritated with himself for letting his smooth facade crack. He turned to walk away, but before he strode through the doorway, Alex managed to make himself speak.

"Hey, Chris?"

In spite of his evident desire to get out, Chris wearily turned back around.

Alex swallowed nervously. After all this time, he didn't know what to ask for. "Would you maybe like to come over for dinner tomorrow?"

Alex didn't dare look away as a myriad emotions crossed Chris' face. He saw Chris' wariness and distrust, and he saw the precise moment when Chris made his leap of faith.

Chris smiled. For Alex, it was like watching the sun come out; the years melted away, and he felt exactly the same as he had when he was 27 and Chris had returned his gentle kiss, the world full of promise and hope.

Chris crossed the kitchen so fast Alex was surprised he didn't break an ankle. He bore down on Alex, his grin infectious and his proximity spreading his body heat over Alex's chest, and Alex found he'd completely lost the ability to think. Chris' lips drew closer and closer, and just before they made contact with Alex's, Chris veered to one side, letting his mouth hover next to Alex's ear. His breath was hot on Alex's neck and his voice thick with longing as he whispered, "Let's make it breakfast instead."


End file.
